Carry On... Episode 18: A Matter of Principles Part 3
Here is the third part of episode 18 of Carry On...
Episode 18: A Matter of Principles
Original airdate: 2010.06.21.
Summary:
Caroga Town, NY. A boy drowns, supposedly pulled under water by some mystical creature. When Sam and Dean arrive they realize a group of hunters is already there, taking care of things in their own way. The new case is suddenly all about priorities and decisions. Wrong and right. And about consequences for Sam and Dean and - eventually - mankind.
Excerpt:
Fingers, white as bones and just as thin, reached out and Sam kneeled down, not even realizing that his feet and trousers were getting wet. With slow, measured movements he mirrored the creature's gesture. Their index fingers touched where air and water met and Sam could hear a voice from somewhere far a way. It was a scrambled mess, nonsense, just hissing and gurgling like a radio that was sending under water and it definitely came from the creature in front of him.
Sam bent his head lower and lower while the creature moved away and when his large body dove into the lake, it didn't even cause any disturbances. Just a smacking, hollow splash as he was sucked under water.
Written by: annj_g80 and pinkphoenix1985
Artist: kiscinca
PART THREE
The vast density of the water surrounded him and Sam strained to hear the murmured words that had lured him into the water in the first place. Still holding his breath he felt light-headed and slightly stupid for walking into the water like a lemming jumping off a cliff.
His movements felt jerky and so incredibly slow. At first, he heard half-broken sentences no louder than a whisper, but as he got used to the sound of the water, he began to hear more clearly. Then, a gentle finger touched his face and the painful weight that had settled onto his chest due to the held breath vanished. He hesitated, then took the now familiar breath of water.
The boy... the creature whispered, starting where it had stopped at their last meeting. I was there when he died.
Sam opened his mouth, trying to speak but it resulted in the dizzying rise of bubbles. The creature understood him anyway.
He was out there, on the shore. Another human came up to him and they started to fight. I could not say what the first human looked like because you all look alike to me. But one of them had no eyes.
'No eyes?' Sam thought. 'What does that mean?'
Unseeing. Black as the deepest trench in the water. No Soul. No good. No feelings.
'A demon? You saw the boy being killed by a demon?'
An ugly bag of bones and skin.
'Nice way to put it,' Sam thought, amused. 'But was it one of the hunters? Did you see that?'
Maybe. I don't know. You all look alike to me.
'So you said.'
We don't mean to hurt anyone. We just want to be left alone, the creature said and its voice sounded so tired and sad that Sam felt his throat constrict painfully. He opened his eyes. His surroundings were blurry and washed out, the color of dirty puddles. But the white shape of the sprite stood out like light in the darkness.
'I know. I'm sorry.'
You have nothing to be sorry for. You have done nothing wrong.
'I wish,' Sam sighed in his mind before he could restrain.
Maybe you don't know yourself as well as you think, Samuel.
Sam blinked, trying to get rid of the fuzzy layer on his eyes but the water in this part of the lake was too murky. Sand and small rubble surrounded him like little moons in orbit and he had problems estimating how far away the water sprite was floating. Its outlines like mere ink blobs on a wet sheet of paper.
'How do you know my name?' he wanted to know.
I know because you're here.
Yeah, that makes sense, Sam groaned inwardly and concentrated on the silent talking. 'Are you sure it was a demon who killed the boy?'
Demon, human... there's no difference. Both are black inside.
Sam swallowed, tasted the slushy water on his tongue. 'That's not true,' he insisted. 'Demons are evil.'
So can be humans. The creature sighed again, causing the water around Sam to tremble. We help when we can but we can't help enough to make the pain you bring lessen. Humans are always hurt and so sad and all they can worry about is life. If only they stopped worrying so much about it, they could live it.
'You've given this quite some thought, haven't you?'
This time the sprite didn't answer and Sam felt its concentration waning. Like it was distracted. A cold wave hit Sam in the face and he became aware that he had probably spent more than a few minutes under water already. Dean would be freaking out.
He blinked one last time but the creature was gone. With a strong kick he pushed himself upwards, arms reaching out to clear the path of the thick strands of algae and other water plants populating the upper regions of the lake. Finally, his head broke through the surface and immediately his lungs protested, spitting out large gushes of water.
-o-
Dean had searched the water for what felt like hours. He was slowly becoming frantic as time passed and there was no sign of Sam. He dove down again, taking a large gulp of breath. But every time he spent less and less time under water before the need for air forced him back.
He couldn't lose Sam here, not now. Oddly enough, this wasn't a way that Dean thought of Sam or him biting the dust--especially not after what happened at the dam. They really should start to take cases in the desert. He took a deep breath again and dove back into the water, hoping that this time he would find Sam. He came up for much needed air, taking a second to gaze again over the water and the shore--when he saw a huge ripple in the water next to him.
He swam towards the ripple, yelling, "Sammy!" just as Sam broke the surface gasping for breath. Dean swam over and grabbed Sam to keep him afloat as they swam back towards the shore.
As they reached the shore, Sam gasped and breathed in a mouthful of air.
Not wanting to take any chances, Dean made Sam sit down on the shore while he checked him for any hidden injuries.
"Dean, Dean, I'm okay!" Sam gasped as he tried to bat Dean's hands away.
"Sam, what did I tell you about not going into the freaking water?" Dean replied.
"Calm down. I'm okay," Sam replied. "The water spirit called me to it to tell me about the boy that died out here."
"So what? You took another nose dive hoping not to drown and then you had a nice chat with Arielle?" Dean growled angrily, "I can't believe you found trouble again. Didn't we agree not to go near the water alone?"
"I know. I'm sorry, okay, but…I couldn't ignore it." He cleared his throat once more and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Yuck. The water tastes disgusting."
Dean shook his head. "Geez, man. The next time you decide to take your chance to not drown, give me a warning."
Nodding in understanding, Sam said, "I know. It's the same for me, but you know that what we do--just isn't the safest job out there. You have to trust me, Dean. Just trust me."
Sighing, Dean nodded. "Okay, okay. So, was it at least worth it? What did you learn?"
"Honestly?" Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"Come again?" Dean huffed, raising an eyebrow. "I ruined my boots for nothing? Again?"
"The sprite was a little... uhm... cryptic. From the sounds of it the boy was actually murdered by one of the hunters but..."
"But what?"
"It sounded to me like a demon."
"Demon? As in possession?"
"It mentioned black, empty eyes. Right after calling us ugly bags of bones and skin."
"Charming. And really creative. I hope you exchanged phone numbers."
Sam rolled his eyes, wiping wet bangs out of his eyes. "I'm not sure he-she--it or whatever actually meant demon or just an evil person. It could mean both." With a groan he heaved himself into a standing position, shaking his head violently to dry the dripping strands of hair. "What?" he asked, when he realized his brother was staring at him with a grin on his lips.
"I just..." Dean began and had to suppress laughter, feeling more light-hearted than he should. More carefree than the situation allowed. They were in the middle of a case with no information whatsoever except for a drowned kid and a possibly possessed person while the Apocalypse was standing on the front porch waiting patiently for its great entrance and the last seals to be broken. "You look like a drowned puppy," he finally snickered. "Glad we thought of bringing towels this time."
Sam nodded with a pout. "I have to admit, getting soaked is getting old pretty fast. Our next case will be in Texas."
"Texas?"
"No water."
"Gotcha."
They walked back to the car and dried off as best as they could.
"So," Sam started, rubbing furiously at his hair, "... the boy didn't just drown in the lake he was obviously pushed after being clubbed over the head. Doesn't really sound demonic at all."
"Yeah, more... domestic." Dean grimaced, wondering when he had begun to think of common murders as domestic.
"You know what this means, right? We have to find the murderer."
"Yeah, I agree. But Sammy, it's very likely that the boy's murderer is of the human variety and you know that we just don't deal with humans. Maybe we should just leave it up to the local police. Maybe we could stick around for a while longer, just to make sure everything is demon-free.” He waggled his eyebrow. “We could do some fishing."
"Dean," Sam almost growled in anger, "We took on this case and we can't hand it over to the local police now. Not when the water fairies are being blamed."
"You know how weird this sounds."
"Weird? I thought there's no such thing as weird in our job?"
"Ha," Dean puffed, grimacing as he realized his own contradiction. "Well, you know what I mean. This sounds like the unicorn case."
"There's no such thing as unicorns, Dean," Sam said, amused.
Dean grinned, his lips almost splitting his face in two. " That really must have hurt saying out loud."
"Jerk!"
"Bitch!"
"Anyway..." Sam sobered, scrunching up the towel and throwing it on the backseat. "You know we can't let the police handle it. Not yet. We need to make it clear to the hunters that the fairies are not responsible. Preferably before they do something immensely stupid."
With a tired heartfelt sigh, Dean reluctantly agreed. "Fine."
"No, I mean something really, really stupid..."
Hearing the urgent tone in Sam's voice Dean looked up and followed his brother's glance. There, a few yards on their left, on a short tongue of land, they could see someone crouching down, nestling somewhat helplessly in a bag filled with something that Sam obviously recognized because he started running.
"Hey!", Sam yelled and Dean followed him. "Stop it!" Shocked, the man heaved himself up, leaning heavily on his knee and stared at the brothers fast approach. Sam recognized the dead boy’s father , his face wrinkled with lines and blotchy with angry tears.
"What are you still doing here?" Weston barked.
"Look, you can't just blow up the lake," Sam told the man. "The water sprites didn't kill your son. They're innocent. A man was with your son on the shore and he's the one who killed him."
"What are you talking about?" the hunter asked as he turned back to setting up the charges. "My son drowned in the lake and those creatures, those evil...things just let him die. I saw it. He was pulled under water. I saw it. Do you know what it feels like to see your own flesh and blood die like this?"
Sam and Dean looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
Been there, done that. Wrote a postcard.
"Look, we understand," Dean interrupted. "Our dad spent more than twenty years seeking revenge for our mother's death. But you're not going to get your revenge by blowing up the lake. Let us find the real murderer and then you can have your revenge."
For a long second, the man stared at Dean, thinking. In the end, he just dropped the wires in his hands to the ground and nodded to the boys.
"Okay, I won't blow up the lake. Not yet. But you'd better find the bastard who killed my son otherwise I just might change my mind," he said to the boys as he turned to go back to his car.
As he drove away from the lake, Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Did he seem a little too accepting about what we were telling him?" Sam asked.
Frowning at the car in the distance, Dean nodded. "Never mind him, Sam. You're the one who wanted to save the water-thingies by finding the human murderer, so let's get to it."
"Fairies, Dean. They're water-fairies."
Dean snorted, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like tea party with My Little Pony. He turned to head back to the waiting Impala, Sam lingering behind a few seconds longer and letting his gaze sweep over the peaceful lake. He'd make sure it wasn't disturbed.
Not if he could help it.
He turned and followed Dean. They had a job to do.
Though, they had to eat first. The perfect opportunity to give the diner they had seen the other day when they entered the town another chance.
-o-
It was a rush of air that woke Dean the next morning and for a moment he lay in his bed, trying to orient himself and figuring out what exactly it was that had woken him. He glanced over to the next bed and saw that Sam was still fast asleep. His brother's chest was moving up and down with a calming regularity, the sheets wrapped around his long legs like they wanted to chain him to the mattress. So, it wasn't Sam who had woken him.
"Rise and shine, Dean," came a deep rumbling voice from inside their room. Kind of amused, too. Dean yelped and grabbed for the gun under his pillow.
"Chill," Bob said and rolled his eyes. "No wonder you had an ulcer. You are much too tense considering the time." Dean glanced at the clock on his night stand. 5:47am.
"Yeah, I wonder why..." he grumbled and, swinging his legs to the floor, glanced at Bob. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
Letting out a little sigh, Bob just said, "We need to talk."
"Pity. I thought you were here because of the outstanding culinary specialties." Standing up and stretching, Dean glanced between Bob and Sam. "Okay, let's step outside. I don't want you to wake up Sam."
Bob nodded and headed outside. Dean quickly and quietly threw on some clothes. Five minutes later, he joined Bob who was leaning against the Impala but stood straight when Dean shot him an annoyed look. Quickly, the angel wiped at the spot he had leaned on.
"So, what’s so important that you had to come this early in the morning?" Dean asked, yawning as he leaned against the Impala with a contented smirk.
"Just wondering what you two were up to. You know, with the Apocalypse waiting and so on." Bob asked, then looked around. His gaze stopped at the large ad they’d seen when they’d entered the town. "Taking a vacation?"
"No. We're working on a case here."
"That's so nice of you two," Bob said, sarcasm dripping from his words like acid. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your little holiday. Really, I'll just ask Judgment Day to come back later."
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, why don’t you do that?”
"Dean..." Bob began, incredulous, his eyes almost popping out of his face.
"I know," Dean interrupted before the angel could say any more. "We are taking the Apocalypse serious. Honestly. I mean--how can we not with our father leading the opposite side and against us. But this... this case is important to Sam and me, okay?"
"Why?" Bob wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest and hiding the large U2 lettering.
"Because, okay?" Dean answered, annoyed that now all of a sudden they even had justify their cases.
Bob merely arched an eyebrow, mocking, "Yeah, that's grown-up talk."
"Look, we don't have to make excuses for what we're doing. We're helping people... or fairies. Or even freaking Tinkerbells if they're being hunted for something they didn't do. It's called justice. You should give it a try."
"I know all about justice. And I also know about priorities, okay? And yours are totally messed up."
"Priorities? There're no priorities in justice. There's either right or wrong. And what's happening here, that's very wrong. We were raised to help people. What difference can we make if we can't help those who can't fight for themselves?" With a vague gesture he pointed into the distant forest. "These hunters are blaming and killing innocent--things. If we don't help, we're no better than them."
"Oh, bullshit! Who are you? Mother Theresa?"
"No. My father's son!"
"That's where your problems start," Bob said, his voice sounding bored but tense at the same time. Slow and measured. Not his usual self.
"Why are you here?" Dean sighed. "Really? And don't tell me you decided all of a sudden that you want to exchange information with us. Because you haven't been very forthcoming with your future plans until now. "
"That's because you don't need to know..."
"Oh that's great!" Dean burst out, suddenly enraged. "We're sick of it. Sick of being the punching bag for your group of tutu-wearing ballerina dudes..."
"Tutu...?"
"We don't do this anymore, got it? We just don't, okay?" It wasn't meant as a question but Bob pretended to think about anyway. Tipping his finger against his chin he stared into the light blue morning sky where a few scattered clouds were lazily drifting by.
"Uhm, no. No chance. In for a penny, in for a pound."
At Dean's crestfallen face, Bob sighed in sympathy. "Look, you and your brother deserve otherwise... better. I get that. But... this is the Apocalypse, judgment day, twilight of the gods, the Day the Earth stood still... whatever you wanna call it. There's no second attempt to make things right. And if you mess this up..."
"We? You're a freaking angel for God's sake. What can we do that you can't?"
"It's not about what you can do, Dean. It's about what you have to do."
"So, now we're back to the cryptic prophecy stuff, right? That's going to be interesting. What have you got to share with us this time?" Dean crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the car and stared at Bob expectantly.
"Look, Dean, I'm just worried. Alastair might be on his way to get you and Sam so you might want to think about that little aspect. Sitting here is like presenting yourself well done on a tablet with an apple in your mouth."
"That's nothing new. So, obviously, you just came here to bitch after all."
"There's more," Bob replied, an urgent tone in his voice.
"What is it?" Straightening up Dean narrowed his eyes. "It's about Dad," he said. "Isn't it? Where is he?"
Bob shifted uncomfortably at the mention of John Winchester. "As far as I know, he's MIA."
"What do you mean?"
Bob sighed and answered reluctantly. "We've gotten the impression that your father has his orders to stay away from you and your brother since it would be too risky."
"For whom?" Dean asked. "Him or us?"
There was a long, silent pause and then Bob admitted, "For him."
" Why?"
Bob sighed once again and reluctantly replied, "Because in order to stop the Apocalypse, you and Sam will have to kill your father."
"Uhh, what?" Dean repeated dumbly. "Are you kidding me?"
"Sure, I'm kidding. Because the Apocalypse is such a fun game."
"Kill our father?" Dean whispered softly, tasting the words like they were poison in his mouth. "We can't. We could never... He’s our father."
"You’ve tried more than once," Bob argued.
" Yeah, we tried. And if we’d really wanted, we'd have been successful a long time ago. But..."
"No buts, Dean. This is it. This is the only way. The only solution. This time the whole world is at stakes. Are you willing to sacrifice a billion lives for your father's?"
"That's... not fair," Dean murmured, as he felt all color leave his face. His knees were shaking, his fingers cold and tingly.
"Duh! Welcome to the real world."
"I'm telling you, Bob, we can't do that. There's gotta be... there has to. We will save him. We at least have to try."
For a long moment Bob stared at him, studying him, as if reading his face. Then he nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Dean."
Within the blink of an eye, the angel was gone, leaving Dean behind like a puppy bound to a post.
Suddenly bone tired, Dean wiped his hands over his face, wondering how the hell he could possible tell Sam.
"I'll show you how we Winchesters do it," he said to no one, running a hand over the smooth metal of the Impala's roof. "We've always done things our way. This time will be no different."
He pushed himself away from the car, striding back toward the motel room where Dean could hear the distant sound of streaming water. Sam had probably woken up already and was using up the meager amount of hot water.
END OF PART THREE
Episode 18: A Matter of Principles
Original airdate: 2010.06.21.
Summary:
Caroga Town, NY. A boy drowns, supposedly pulled under water by some mystical creature. When Sam and Dean arrive they realize a group of hunters is already there, taking care of things in their own way. The new case is suddenly all about priorities and decisions. Wrong and right. And about consequences for Sam and Dean and - eventually - mankind.
Excerpt:
Fingers, white as bones and just as thin, reached out and Sam kneeled down, not even realizing that his feet and trousers were getting wet. With slow, measured movements he mirrored the creature's gesture. Their index fingers touched where air and water met and Sam could hear a voice from somewhere far a way. It was a scrambled mess, nonsense, just hissing and gurgling like a radio that was sending under water and it definitely came from the creature in front of him.
Sam bent his head lower and lower while the creature moved away and when his large body dove into the lake, it didn't even cause any disturbances. Just a smacking, hollow splash as he was sucked under water.
Written by: annj_g80 and pinkphoenix1985
Artist: kiscinca
PART THREE
The vast density of the water surrounded him and Sam strained to hear the murmured words that had lured him into the water in the first place. Still holding his breath he felt light-headed and slightly stupid for walking into the water like a lemming jumping off a cliff.
His movements felt jerky and so incredibly slow. At first, he heard half-broken sentences no louder than a whisper, but as he got used to the sound of the water, he began to hear more clearly. Then, a gentle finger touched his face and the painful weight that had settled onto his chest due to the held breath vanished. He hesitated, then took the now familiar breath of water.
The boy... the creature whispered, starting where it had stopped at their last meeting. I was there when he died.
Sam opened his mouth, trying to speak but it resulted in the dizzying rise of bubbles. The creature understood him anyway.
He was out there, on the shore. Another human came up to him and they started to fight. I could not say what the first human looked like because you all look alike to me. But one of them had no eyes.
'No eyes?' Sam thought. 'What does that mean?'
Unseeing. Black as the deepest trench in the water. No Soul. No good. No feelings.
'A demon? You saw the boy being killed by a demon?'
An ugly bag of bones and skin.
'Nice way to put it,' Sam thought, amused. 'But was it one of the hunters? Did you see that?'
Maybe. I don't know. You all look alike to me.
'So you said.'
We don't mean to hurt anyone. We just want to be left alone, the creature said and its voice sounded so tired and sad that Sam felt his throat constrict painfully. He opened his eyes. His surroundings were blurry and washed out, the color of dirty puddles. But the white shape of the sprite stood out like light in the darkness.
'I know. I'm sorry.'
You have nothing to be sorry for. You have done nothing wrong.
'I wish,' Sam sighed in his mind before he could restrain.
Maybe you don't know yourself as well as you think, Samuel.
Sam blinked, trying to get rid of the fuzzy layer on his eyes but the water in this part of the lake was too murky. Sand and small rubble surrounded him like little moons in orbit and he had problems estimating how far away the water sprite was floating. Its outlines like mere ink blobs on a wet sheet of paper.
'How do you know my name?' he wanted to know.
I know because you're here.
Yeah, that makes sense, Sam groaned inwardly and concentrated on the silent talking. 'Are you sure it was a demon who killed the boy?'
Demon, human... there's no difference. Both are black inside.
Sam swallowed, tasted the slushy water on his tongue. 'That's not true,' he insisted. 'Demons are evil.'
So can be humans. The creature sighed again, causing the water around Sam to tremble. We help when we can but we can't help enough to make the pain you bring lessen. Humans are always hurt and so sad and all they can worry about is life. If only they stopped worrying so much about it, they could live it.
'You've given this quite some thought, haven't you?'
This time the sprite didn't answer and Sam felt its concentration waning. Like it was distracted. A cold wave hit Sam in the face and he became aware that he had probably spent more than a few minutes under water already. Dean would be freaking out.
He blinked one last time but the creature was gone. With a strong kick he pushed himself upwards, arms reaching out to clear the path of the thick strands of algae and other water plants populating the upper regions of the lake. Finally, his head broke through the surface and immediately his lungs protested, spitting out large gushes of water.
-o-
Dean had searched the water for what felt like hours. He was slowly becoming frantic as time passed and there was no sign of Sam. He dove down again, taking a large gulp of breath. But every time he spent less and less time under water before the need for air forced him back.
He couldn't lose Sam here, not now. Oddly enough, this wasn't a way that Dean thought of Sam or him biting the dust--especially not after what happened at the dam. They really should start to take cases in the desert. He took a deep breath again and dove back into the water, hoping that this time he would find Sam. He came up for much needed air, taking a second to gaze again over the water and the shore--when he saw a huge ripple in the water next to him.
He swam towards the ripple, yelling, "Sammy!" just as Sam broke the surface gasping for breath. Dean swam over and grabbed Sam to keep him afloat as they swam back towards the shore.
As they reached the shore, Sam gasped and breathed in a mouthful of air.
Not wanting to take any chances, Dean made Sam sit down on the shore while he checked him for any hidden injuries.
"Dean, Dean, I'm okay!" Sam gasped as he tried to bat Dean's hands away.
"Sam, what did I tell you about not going into the freaking water?" Dean replied.
"Calm down. I'm okay," Sam replied. "The water spirit called me to it to tell me about the boy that died out here."
"So what? You took another nose dive hoping not to drown and then you had a nice chat with Arielle?" Dean growled angrily, "I can't believe you found trouble again. Didn't we agree not to go near the water alone?"
"I know. I'm sorry, okay, but…I couldn't ignore it." He cleared his throat once more and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Yuck. The water tastes disgusting."
Dean shook his head. "Geez, man. The next time you decide to take your chance to not drown, give me a warning."
Nodding in understanding, Sam said, "I know. It's the same for me, but you know that what we do--just isn't the safest job out there. You have to trust me, Dean. Just trust me."
Sighing, Dean nodded. "Okay, okay. So, was it at least worth it? What did you learn?"
"Honestly?" Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"Come again?" Dean huffed, raising an eyebrow. "I ruined my boots for nothing? Again?"
"The sprite was a little... uhm... cryptic. From the sounds of it the boy was actually murdered by one of the hunters but..."
"But what?"
"It sounded to me like a demon."
"Demon? As in possession?"
"It mentioned black, empty eyes. Right after calling us ugly bags of bones and skin."
"Charming. And really creative. I hope you exchanged phone numbers."
Sam rolled his eyes, wiping wet bangs out of his eyes. "I'm not sure he-she--it or whatever actually meant demon or just an evil person. It could mean both." With a groan he heaved himself into a standing position, shaking his head violently to dry the dripping strands of hair. "What?" he asked, when he realized his brother was staring at him with a grin on his lips.
"I just..." Dean began and had to suppress laughter, feeling more light-hearted than he should. More carefree than the situation allowed. They were in the middle of a case with no information whatsoever except for a drowned kid and a possibly possessed person while the Apocalypse was standing on the front porch waiting patiently for its great entrance and the last seals to be broken. "You look like a drowned puppy," he finally snickered. "Glad we thought of bringing towels this time."
Sam nodded with a pout. "I have to admit, getting soaked is getting old pretty fast. Our next case will be in Texas."
"Texas?"
"No water."
"Gotcha."
They walked back to the car and dried off as best as they could.
"So," Sam started, rubbing furiously at his hair, "... the boy didn't just drown in the lake he was obviously pushed after being clubbed over the head. Doesn't really sound demonic at all."
"Yeah, more... domestic." Dean grimaced, wondering when he had begun to think of common murders as domestic.
"You know what this means, right? We have to find the murderer."
"Yeah, I agree. But Sammy, it's very likely that the boy's murderer is of the human variety and you know that we just don't deal with humans. Maybe we should just leave it up to the local police. Maybe we could stick around for a while longer, just to make sure everything is demon-free.” He waggled his eyebrow. “We could do some fishing."
"Dean," Sam almost growled in anger, "We took on this case and we can't hand it over to the local police now. Not when the water fairies are being blamed."
"You know how weird this sounds."
"Weird? I thought there's no such thing as weird in our job?"
"Ha," Dean puffed, grimacing as he realized his own contradiction. "Well, you know what I mean. This sounds like the unicorn case."
"There's no such thing as unicorns, Dean," Sam said, amused.
Dean grinned, his lips almost splitting his face in two. " That really must have hurt saying out loud."
"Jerk!"
"Bitch!"
"Anyway..." Sam sobered, scrunching up the towel and throwing it on the backseat. "You know we can't let the police handle it. Not yet. We need to make it clear to the hunters that the fairies are not responsible. Preferably before they do something immensely stupid."
With a tired heartfelt sigh, Dean reluctantly agreed. "Fine."
"No, I mean something really, really stupid..."
Hearing the urgent tone in Sam's voice Dean looked up and followed his brother's glance. There, a few yards on their left, on a short tongue of land, they could see someone crouching down, nestling somewhat helplessly in a bag filled with something that Sam obviously recognized because he started running.
"Hey!", Sam yelled and Dean followed him. "Stop it!" Shocked, the man heaved himself up, leaning heavily on his knee and stared at the brothers fast approach. Sam recognized the dead boy’s father , his face wrinkled with lines and blotchy with angry tears.
"What are you still doing here?" Weston barked.
"Look, you can't just blow up the lake," Sam told the man. "The water sprites didn't kill your son. They're innocent. A man was with your son on the shore and he's the one who killed him."
"What are you talking about?" the hunter asked as he turned back to setting up the charges. "My son drowned in the lake and those creatures, those evil...things just let him die. I saw it. He was pulled under water. I saw it. Do you know what it feels like to see your own flesh and blood die like this?"
Sam and Dean looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
Been there, done that. Wrote a postcard.
"Look, we understand," Dean interrupted. "Our dad spent more than twenty years seeking revenge for our mother's death. But you're not going to get your revenge by blowing up the lake. Let us find the real murderer and then you can have your revenge."
For a long second, the man stared at Dean, thinking. In the end, he just dropped the wires in his hands to the ground and nodded to the boys.
"Okay, I won't blow up the lake. Not yet. But you'd better find the bastard who killed my son otherwise I just might change my mind," he said to the boys as he turned to go back to his car.
As he drove away from the lake, Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Did he seem a little too accepting about what we were telling him?" Sam asked.
Frowning at the car in the distance, Dean nodded. "Never mind him, Sam. You're the one who wanted to save the water-thingies by finding the human murderer, so let's get to it."
"Fairies, Dean. They're water-fairies."
Dean snorted, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like tea party with My Little Pony. He turned to head back to the waiting Impala, Sam lingering behind a few seconds longer and letting his gaze sweep over the peaceful lake. He'd make sure it wasn't disturbed.
Not if he could help it.
He turned and followed Dean. They had a job to do.
Though, they had to eat first. The perfect opportunity to give the diner they had seen the other day when they entered the town another chance.
-o-
It was a rush of air that woke Dean the next morning and for a moment he lay in his bed, trying to orient himself and figuring out what exactly it was that had woken him. He glanced over to the next bed and saw that Sam was still fast asleep. His brother's chest was moving up and down with a calming regularity, the sheets wrapped around his long legs like they wanted to chain him to the mattress. So, it wasn't Sam who had woken him.
"Rise and shine, Dean," came a deep rumbling voice from inside their room. Kind of amused, too. Dean yelped and grabbed for the gun under his pillow.
"Chill," Bob said and rolled his eyes. "No wonder you had an ulcer. You are much too tense considering the time." Dean glanced at the clock on his night stand. 5:47am.
"Yeah, I wonder why..." he grumbled and, swinging his legs to the floor, glanced at Bob. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
Letting out a little sigh, Bob just said, "We need to talk."
"Pity. I thought you were here because of the outstanding culinary specialties." Standing up and stretching, Dean glanced between Bob and Sam. "Okay, let's step outside. I don't want you to wake up Sam."
Bob nodded and headed outside. Dean quickly and quietly threw on some clothes. Five minutes later, he joined Bob who was leaning against the Impala but stood straight when Dean shot him an annoyed look. Quickly, the angel wiped at the spot he had leaned on.
"So, what’s so important that you had to come this early in the morning?" Dean asked, yawning as he leaned against the Impala with a contented smirk.
"Just wondering what you two were up to. You know, with the Apocalypse waiting and so on." Bob asked, then looked around. His gaze stopped at the large ad they’d seen when they’d entered the town. "Taking a vacation?"
"No. We're working on a case here."
"That's so nice of you two," Bob said, sarcasm dripping from his words like acid. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your little holiday. Really, I'll just ask Judgment Day to come back later."
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, why don’t you do that?”
"Dean..." Bob began, incredulous, his eyes almost popping out of his face.
"I know," Dean interrupted before the angel could say any more. "We are taking the Apocalypse serious. Honestly. I mean--how can we not with our father leading the opposite side and against us. But this... this case is important to Sam and me, okay?"
"Why?" Bob wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest and hiding the large U2 lettering.
"Because, okay?" Dean answered, annoyed that now all of a sudden they even had justify their cases.
Bob merely arched an eyebrow, mocking, "Yeah, that's grown-up talk."
"Look, we don't have to make excuses for what we're doing. We're helping people... or fairies. Or even freaking Tinkerbells if they're being hunted for something they didn't do. It's called justice. You should give it a try."
"I know all about justice. And I also know about priorities, okay? And yours are totally messed up."
"Priorities? There're no priorities in justice. There's either right or wrong. And what's happening here, that's very wrong. We were raised to help people. What difference can we make if we can't help those who can't fight for themselves?" With a vague gesture he pointed into the distant forest. "These hunters are blaming and killing innocent--things. If we don't help, we're no better than them."
"Oh, bullshit! Who are you? Mother Theresa?"
"No. My father's son!"
"That's where your problems start," Bob said, his voice sounding bored but tense at the same time. Slow and measured. Not his usual self.
"Why are you here?" Dean sighed. "Really? And don't tell me you decided all of a sudden that you want to exchange information with us. Because you haven't been very forthcoming with your future plans until now. "
"That's because you don't need to know..."
"Oh that's great!" Dean burst out, suddenly enraged. "We're sick of it. Sick of being the punching bag for your group of tutu-wearing ballerina dudes..."
"Tutu...?"
"We don't do this anymore, got it? We just don't, okay?" It wasn't meant as a question but Bob pretended to think about anyway. Tipping his finger against his chin he stared into the light blue morning sky where a few scattered clouds were lazily drifting by.
"Uhm, no. No chance. In for a penny, in for a pound."
At Dean's crestfallen face, Bob sighed in sympathy. "Look, you and your brother deserve otherwise... better. I get that. But... this is the Apocalypse, judgment day, twilight of the gods, the Day the Earth stood still... whatever you wanna call it. There's no second attempt to make things right. And if you mess this up..."
"We? You're a freaking angel for God's sake. What can we do that you can't?"
"It's not about what you can do, Dean. It's about what you have to do."
"So, now we're back to the cryptic prophecy stuff, right? That's going to be interesting. What have you got to share with us this time?" Dean crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the car and stared at Bob expectantly.
"Look, Dean, I'm just worried. Alastair might be on his way to get you and Sam so you might want to think about that little aspect. Sitting here is like presenting yourself well done on a tablet with an apple in your mouth."
"That's nothing new. So, obviously, you just came here to bitch after all."
"There's more," Bob replied, an urgent tone in his voice.
"What is it?" Straightening up Dean narrowed his eyes. "It's about Dad," he said. "Isn't it? Where is he?"
Bob shifted uncomfortably at the mention of John Winchester. "As far as I know, he's MIA."
"What do you mean?"
Bob sighed and answered reluctantly. "We've gotten the impression that your father has his orders to stay away from you and your brother since it would be too risky."
"For whom?" Dean asked. "Him or us?"
There was a long, silent pause and then Bob admitted, "For him."
" Why?"
Bob sighed once again and reluctantly replied, "Because in order to stop the Apocalypse, you and Sam will have to kill your father."
"Uhh, what?" Dean repeated dumbly. "Are you kidding me?"
"Sure, I'm kidding. Because the Apocalypse is such a fun game."
"Kill our father?" Dean whispered softly, tasting the words like they were poison in his mouth. "We can't. We could never... He’s our father."
"You’ve tried more than once," Bob argued.
" Yeah, we tried. And if we’d really wanted, we'd have been successful a long time ago. But..."
"No buts, Dean. This is it. This is the only way. The only solution. This time the whole world is at stakes. Are you willing to sacrifice a billion lives for your father's?"
"That's... not fair," Dean murmured, as he felt all color leave his face. His knees were shaking, his fingers cold and tingly.
"Duh! Welcome to the real world."
"I'm telling you, Bob, we can't do that. There's gotta be... there has to. We will save him. We at least have to try."
For a long moment Bob stared at him, studying him, as if reading his face. Then he nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Dean."
Within the blink of an eye, the angel was gone, leaving Dean behind like a puppy bound to a post.
Suddenly bone tired, Dean wiped his hands over his face, wondering how the hell he could possible tell Sam.
"I'll show you how we Winchesters do it," he said to no one, running a hand over the smooth metal of the Impala's roof. "We've always done things our way. This time will be no different."
He pushed himself away from the car, striding back toward the motel room where Dean could hear the distant sound of streaming water. Sam had probably woken up already and was using up the meager amount of hot water.
END OF PART THREE